


Verbally Abusive

by Slytheringirle



Series: Just A Little Something [6]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: (not really) - Freeform, ... - Freeform, Enj has some apologising to do, Enjolras and Grantaire get into a fight, Just another beautiful night, M/M, Wrote this while listening to, all of the stars, and a confession, but I was listening to All The Stars all the time, it’s more intense than usal, nothing angsty though, on loop, so...., there really is nothing to say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 11:31:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19356175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytheringirle/pseuds/Slytheringirle
Summary: “It’s beautiful tonight,” said a voice from beside him, and he didn’t need to turn to know that it was Enjolras.“It is,” he agreed.And after a while: “I’m sorry about earlier,” Enjolras said.“I’m sure you are.”





	Verbally Abusive

**Author's Note:**

> Un-betad, all mistakes are mine(tragically).

“My parents never beat me up, never starved me, but sometimes I wish they had.” Said Grantaire to his eyes fixed on Enjolras. He was aware of the tense silence in the room, of everyone looking at him, but what did it matter? He’ll be gone the moment he gets the words out, he just needs Enjolras to know that he isn’t naturally fucked up, that his parents had a role to play. “They never even told me I’m a disappointment, not directly anyways. Instead, they’d tell their friends how they failed as parents, using me as an example while aware that _I was right there, listening._ They’d always compare me to my cousins, wishing that I’d turned up like them.” -His voice rose to a shout- “Always called me fat, ugly, ungrateful. Called me lazy and turned the other way when I showed them my drawings. So excuse me if I need liquor to feel better about myself!” And with that he stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him.

The café was busy downstairs, and the waitress that he always tipped generously asked him if he was okay as he made his way out, but he ignored her in favour of the stinging air. Once outside, he contemplated going to a bar and finishing what he started, but decided on going back to his apartment. No need to give Enjolras more things to taunt him about. Walking down the sidewalk, he relished in the sting of the cold December air against his face and the busy bustling of the city around him, despite it being almost midnight. He liked to think the wine and the amis -particularly Enjolras- were the ones stopping him from ending it all, but it was this beauty, really. It was at these times that he realised it doesn’t matter that he’s fuck-up, that the world still continued to spin, oblivious. And maybe that was enough to hang onto.

He crossed the road and stepped on the parallel sidewalk, coming to a stop in front of the railway overlooking the Seine. Up close, he could hear the slow motion of the water and had to bite back a smile at the glittering water reflecting the city lights. Paris was truly a wonder, he could almost see why Enjolras fought for it so passionately. Almost. What he couldn’t understand is why the blond didn’t just step back and admire everything while it was there. He’ll never be able to achieve his goal, not in this lifetime anyway. And while his visions might come true, he won’t live to see them, so why bother?

“It’s beautiful tonight,” said a voice from beside him, and he didn’t need to turn to know that it was Enjolras.

“It is,” he agreed.

And after a while: “I’m sorry about earlier,” Enjolras said.

“I’m sure you are.”

“No, really. It was out of line and I’m sorry. I drove you to say things that you hadn’t wanted to share ( The words came out of my mouth, you didn’t force them out.) and- and invaded your privacy.”

That made him pause. “How?”

Enjolras flushed. “Well, I was in your apartment the other day, looking for the posters I’ve asked for and- I- ugh, I found your journal. I know about your depression.”

Grantaire snorted. “Wretched thing. Knew I shouldn’t have kept it.” It wasn’t that much of journal, really. Just a notebook he scraps angrly on. Most of the time it’s with an incomprehensible handwriting -not all artists have an elegant, curvy handwriting- rambling about how hot Enjolras and how he’d fuck-up. And oh- “That wasn’t the only thing you read, was it?”

He looked at Enjolras sideways and, with the moonlight shining on his angelic face and his flushed cheeks, he looked like a painting of angel out of church. “No,” admitted the blond quietly, embarrassed. Something Grantaire couldn’t find it in himself to be.

“I don’t really care,” he shrugged, turning back to the river. “Do whatever you want with that information.”

Enjolras grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him so that they were facing each other, and before Grantaire could say or do anything, Enjolras’s lips were against his, soft and fierce. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the kiss, glad to be out of his world, no matter how briefly.

When they pulled back, he felt a flush that matched Enjolras’s, who was looking at him with those blue eyes not looking apologetic in the least. “You said I could do whatever I want with the information.”

Grantaire smiled. “I did.”

Enjolras’s face softened and he placed an arm around his shoulders, pulling him and turning to face the Seine. He rested his head against the revolutionary, enjoying the scenery and the muscular chest.

Somewhere in the distance, _All Of The Stars_ was playing.

**Author's Note:**

> All Of The Stars is a song by Ed Sheeran wrote for and played in The Fault In Our Stars.


End file.
